Butterflies
by CandyApple75
Summary: Regina wanted to stopped cutting herself, but it felt so good. This is kind of sick and twisted, but please read and review anyway! Trigger Warning.


**So this came to me and I just had to post it. It's kind of dark and twisted and pontless, but it felt good to write it.**

**Beware of any typos. They're like ninjas. (I was really tired when I wrote this)**

**Hope this doesn't scar anyone for life!**

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Regina was scared of a lot of things. She was scared of losing Henry, her mother, the townspeople remembering themselves and trying to kill her and Emma Swan. But the thing Regina was most scared of was herself.

It had been a habit for as long as she could remember. Whenever she was upset, she would find the sharpest thing she could and dig it into her skin. She had tried to stop more times than she could count, but it felt so good to let everything flow out of her in that rush of pain. She loved being able to control what she felt.

Regina had never been caught. She had become an expert at hiding the thin white scars. Actually, there was little need to hide them in her homeland. After all, they blended right in with the scars her mother had given her.

_Cora slapped the riding crop against the palm of her hand. Sure, she was capable of inflicting intense pain upon her daughter with a single thought, but this was much more entertaining. Regina winced as the crop was lifted. As it hit her shoulder, she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. She knew that screaming would only make it worse. She bit her lip harder and harder until she could taste blood in her mouth. _

_After ten minutes, Cora finally set the crop on the table. "Now go to bed like a good girl. And if anyone hears anything about this, you will wish that was the worst of it."_

_Regina nodded and hastily pulled her dress back on. By the time she got back to her room, crimson blood had stained the pale blue fabric. She locked the door behind her and let herself scream. She flew around her room in a blind rage, knocking over chairs and throwing things against the wall. After a moment, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were stained with tears and her eyes were red and swollen. She punched the glass with her bare fist. It shattered and a shard of glass jammed itself into her knuckle._

_Regina pulled it out, but then hesitated before running the jagged blade down her wrist. Drops of blood appeared where she cut. It hurt, but not in the same way her mother hurt her. This was a good kind of pain. And she liked it._

The light on the answering machine blinked steadily. She got up and pressed the button to hear the message.

"Hi, Mom. It's Henry. I just want you to know I'm staying with Emma tonight. We're having a Star Wars movie marathon! I'll see you tomorrow. Bye. Oh, this is Henry by the way."

The message ended and Regina sank down onto the sofa. She was losing him to Emma. She could feel hot tears prickling at the edge of her vision. She stood up and went into the kitchen. Before she knew what she was doing, she was sliding a knife across the inside of her wrist next to the innumerable white scars already there. The blood dripped down her arm and it felt so good.

_It had been three months since she had broken the mirror, but Regina still had that little piece of glass. It was her favorite thing to use. It could cut deep or it could just scratch the skin depending on how she used it. Whenever her mother hit her, Regina would go to her room and cut herself. It made her feel alive. The pain was more real. But most importantly, she could control it. _

Regina heard a knock on the door. She dropped the knife on the counter and pulled the sleeve of her blouse down over her arm and the sleeve of her blazer over her blouse. She opened the door with that fake politician's smile plastered on her face. It was Emma and Henry.

"Hey," Emma said. "Sorry to interrupt you, but Henry wanted to get his pajamas and stuff."

"Of course," Regina said. She stepped out of the way to let Henry through, stretching her arm in a way that caused her blazer sleeve to shift revealing the blood-soaked blouse sleeve below.

Henry caught sight of the blood. "Mom? Why are you bleeding?"

Regina's hand darted to her wrist. She gripped it tightly. "No reason sweetie," she said softly. "Just go get your things."

Henry's eyes linger on Regina for a moment, but he dashed upstairs.

"Regina, what happened?" Emma asked from the door way.

"Nothing."

Emma stepped inside and in one fluid motion, she grabbed Regina's arm and yanked up the sleeve of the mayor's blouse, revealing the fresh cuts next to the faded white scars.

"What the hell, Regina?" Emma asked quietly.

"It's none of your concern. No get the hell out of my house."

Emma held up her wrist revealing a poorly drawn butterfly.

"I get it," she said. "I get it. I cut myself for almost ten years. I felt worthless and I never belonged anywhere. I stopped because I cut too deep. I almost died and I realized that it wasn't worth it. I go over my butterfly everyday to remind me."

"You don't know anything about me," Regina spat.

Emma dug into her pocket and grabbed a ballpoint pen. She grabbed Regina's wrist again and quickly drew a little butterfly on it. Underneath the butterfly, she wrote Henry.

"Don't scrub that off. You have to let it fade naturally. And if you cut yourself before it's gone, you've killed it. If you think about cutting yourself again, draw another one. You can stop. You HAVE to stop. For Henry."

Regina didn't realize she was crying until a stray tear fell into her mouth. She had tried to stop forever, but after Daniel's death, she had spiraled out of control.

"You can do it," Emma said as Henry came running down the stairs. Regina gave him a kiss on the forehead before he ran outside.

Emma started to leave when she heard Regina's voice.

"Miss Swan?"

Emma turned her head to look back at the mayor.

"Thank you."

Emma nodded and then ran to catch up to Henry. Regina watched them until they drove off. Then, she went back into the kitchen and tossed the knife into the sink. She went upstairs to her bedroom. There, she reached under her bed and pulled out a small wooden box. She opened it up and pulled out the small shard of broken glass. She went outside and buried it next to her apple tree. Emma was right. She could stop. She needed to stop.

For Henry.

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**So...is anyone traumatized? No? Good.**

**Yeah. If you want to learn more about the butterfly that Emma drew on Regina and why Emma had a butterfly on her wrist, then please Google The Butterfly Project. You can find the rules for the project and photos of other people's butterflies.**


End file.
